Eden Trembles
by StreakingHerculobus
Summary: Azula suffers from a debilitating affliction, and as a result the course of the four nations is irrevocably altered.


"Get the nurses!" A loud feminine voice echoed through the otherwise silent halls of the royal palace.

Then if that wasn't disturbing enough, a visceral scream cut the air, and Zuko knew that Azula was going through another episode.

He curled into a ball and did his best to ignore the bustle outside his room. He tried to focus on anything but the sinking feeling in his gut from the thought of how he couldn't do anything for his sister.

He was powerless. They were all at a loss, even the doctors. The only thing they could manage was to comfort her in her distress, though no comfort was ever found.

The night would drag on without a moment's rest. Azula would be forced to weather the mental assault for hours while they watched on helplessly.

Eventually if she was lucky enough Azula might pass out, or in the best case scenario fall asleep. His mother would stay beside her daughter for the rest of the night, the servants would leave in defeat, and Zuko would be left to curse his uselessness.

Another cry which evolved into a sob brought Zuko out of his thoughts.

God! Why? What did his sister ever do to deserve this? Incensed Zuko bolted up from his bed, only for his anger to dissipate into immense pity.

It's impossible to describe that raw emotion that comes from when someone you love- someone who you promised yourself to take care of- is hurting, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Cautiously he slid onto to the floor and almost as if testing the boards he took tentative steps towards the door.

He slipped through with a creak and sleuthed towards his sister's chambers.

It was winter but Zuko could have sworn there was a frostiness not present other evenings.

He stopped outside the cracked door and peered inside. Two servants waited with demure looks at the perimeter near a lone flickering torch.

His mother was situated on the mattress, consoling her daughter as usual. Azula had her arms and legs thrown around the comforting figure, head buried in the crook of the Ursa's neck. Father wasn't present. He hadn't bothered to check in since they found out there was no medical cure.

Zuko, not that he was satisfied, but his heart was somewhat unburdened by the relative peacefulness Azula displayed for the moment, turned to go back to his room.

He never could reconcile the image of a resting Azula to her typical demeanor during the day, so full of spark and with her trademark barbed personality.

But she looked so innocent sleeping, and you'd never guess she was a prodigy fire bender.

He glanced one last time in Azula's direction and thought he saw a glint of gold about head high in the shadows at the far end of the hall. But it was probably just his imagination.

Under his covers again Zuko had almost fallen asleep, assured that the worst was over, when that same haunting wail broke through the barriers of his consciousness.

As usual Azula conducted herself as if last night didn't happen. The first things to come out of her mouth towards Zuko dealt with how sullen he was behaving.

Drawing from her father's wisdom she stated that, "the royal family mustn't let themselves appear discouraged."

In contrast to the regular verbal abuse he endured, her admonishment sounded like she was actually concerned for his reputation.

Thus he elected not to point out how that they were only the niece and nephew and that nobody really cares how the children of the spare behave.

He could've have gone a step farther and reminded her that he was the eldest anyways and especially with her condition she's destined to slip under the radar despite her abilities.

That last thought seemed like a traitor and Zuko hated himself for letting bitterness get the best of him.

He was unaware of Azula's own promise to herself that in time she would overcome the headaches and ascend to legendary status.

But those sentiments were formed and expressed in the privacy of her room, where nobody could laugh at her.

It was for that very reason that she always kicked her mother out as soon as she woke up. It just irked her how Ursa would offer her something to drink, smile in an affectionate manner, and in general act so motherly.

There was also the fact that her presence reminded her of her vulnerability. She's grown to associate her mother with her illness by pure coincidence.

The correlation was strong now and she hoped that one day when she was healed they'd both look back and remark how silly it was.

Still Azula did not miss where after leaving her daughter's quarters in understanding and without a fuss Ursa went to see Zuko.

So," she hummed, "what do you have planned for today? I know Father has two hours of training lined up for you."

A pleasant enough topic. "Well, Mother asked if I want to go to the theatre tonight."

Azula snorted in derision, not a very princess thing to do but typical of her character. "You're going to go watch a bunch of commoners play pretend? Please."

Then remembering a certain fight which broke out (courtesy of her) between two young lovebirds Azula pounced, "I know, maybe you should invite Mai."

Zuko's knuckles were white around the spoon. He was very aware of who had instigated the affair. Mai's scathing words still caused his gut to clench: "You think you're the only one who has problems?" And Azula had made it worse by finding the entire argument extremely hilarious. Mai had glanced at both siblings, shook her head, and stormed off.

A dark thought entered his mind.

"You know you are looking a lot better."

The temperature dropped ten degrees in spite of the massive fireplace not far from where the two sat sipping their breakfast.

Azula's eyes flashed cold and Zuko immediately regretted what he said. He wanted to look away but he was no coward and so he met her gaze, partially ashamed, fully committed.

He could tell that her gaze promised hell in the coming days and while a part of him said he deserved it, another part said Azula needed to open up about her feelings regardless.

Without another word Azula rushed out of the spacious dining hall (at least by her standards). She walked away in a controlled manner. Only someone who knew her really well like Zuko could sense her fractured composure.

Thus he remained at the oval table situated beside the hearth reserved for them. A servant appeared, having noticed Azula's departure, and her heels thudded closer while Zuko realized that he may have gone too far, he may have hit too close to home.

God knows that she faced enough tribulation. Her brother was the last person she needed adding to the fire.

So with a little more pondering he decided to squash that desire to retaliate whenever his sister was involved. It'd be a good exercise in humility and he felt that Uncle would approve.

She moved with flawless form. The air glided along her skin with zero turbulence and the ground was a cushion for her feet.

Her face betrayed no emotion other than that of concentrated serenity. She spun and twirled, incorporating her own ideas into the advanced katas. Swirls of orange fire shot from her fists into the early morning light.

She was lost in her unique dance of bending, not a misstep to be found, at least until a strong arm gripped hers and she was thrown to the side.

She landed on her hip and looking up, she saw her father strangely displeased.

"Azula, what do you think this is? Bending is a fierce and deadly affair, not some stupid ballet demonstration." He raised a finger. "Let me never see this again, understand?"

She nodded her head numbly.

He hesitated for another moment, the same conflicted expression on his face. Then with what almost sounded like a sigh of regret he turned away.

Ozai didn't dare look back, not sure if his heart could take Azula's reaction, or more likely, lack of reaction.

Sometimes he questioned the conditioning he employed when she was younger, before the handicap reared its ugly head.

He only did it to try to protect her. While women were more respected in the Fire Nation than most cultures, they still had to overcome that gap.

He thought of his wife. She was strong. It was one of the reasons he married her. It'd take a strong woman to live with him. But it wasn't enough. Especially when he discovered his daughter's prowess with bending.

The Fire Sages the day of her birth had practically prophesied the unprecedented talent which lived within. And he planned to exploit it in the fullest.

Then fate had struck in a cruel twist of irony. The child who literally carried the "essence of the Fire Nation," whose like had not been seen in four hundred years, was stricken with frequent incapacitating migraines.

The fact made his blood hot, and his soul clench, so confusing, he couldn't decide between pity and anger. And he hated being reminded.

Thus he never attended her lessons anymore. He couldn't stand to see all that talent and know that possibly an hour later Azula might fall prey to that invisible predator.

Some might call him a bad father. His wife had certainly let her opinions known. But he knew that none of that mattered. Azulon never treated him or Iroh with any sort of sympathy

It was only that inner strength which held any significance. If Azula was born to achieve great things, then she will. Nothing he does will add or subtract from that destiny.

Everyone's battle was their own.

The problem lied in how close Azula felt to her mother. The bond was inevitable, considering their late night experiences, and the ten year old couldn't get around it.

So when her mother accused her of things of which even Azula wouldn't be proud, it stung.

This morning Azula had been sprawled out on the tender grass, counting the clouds rolling by, when a disgruntled face appeared in her line of vision.

"Yes mother?" Azula saw the signs; this wasn't going to be a spontaneous peaceable visit like the so many Zuko received.

"I found the earth kingdom china your Uncle Iroh sent us broken on the floor. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

Azula shrugged. "Nope." And like the princess predicted, her mother assumed it was just another one of her lies.

"Because I remember your derogatory remarks towards the set when it first arrived. Your father may have thought them funny, but I was not amused."

Ursa hoped the servants had finished cleaning up the mess by now. "I thought I taught you better than this. You're not two years old. Learn to take care of stuff."

Azula was about to further deny the allegation, but her mouth merely opened and shut, having lost its confidence. So instead she swallowed and meekly replied, "Of course, Mother, I apologize."

She closed her eyes for a brief second, squashing the instinct to yell and scream at her mother, to explain how that it wasn't her fault, that she wasn't responsible for everything bad that happens, and how she wished her own parents would think more of her.

But Azula was too proud to engage in such behavior. She's too proud to admit that her mother's actions did in fact affect her, no matter how far Azula tried to distance herself.

Ursa inhaled, trying to shake the image of the shattered porcelain from her mind. She was about to let her daughter know that she'll be going without dinner tonight, but she was painfully reminded how not eating left Azula more vulnerable to headaches. "Tomorrow you're confined to your room at all times other than training."

Azula removed the dandelion from her mouth and contemplated the winds. They carried on them the smoky scent of her departing mother. How she hated that perfume on the wings of the day. But then on special nights that same smell became a lifeline and she couldn't get enough.

Azula scowled at the kind of contradiction she lived, where one moment she'd be looking to Mother for leadership and affection; then two seconds later, she'd be reminded of the mutual resentment.

Azula knew it had only been a matter of time. Zuko was too coddled. Mother had shielded him from the reality of royal life. Now he was going to pay the price for his impulsiveness.

This morning Mother had tried her best to dissuade Father. But the Fire Lord couldn't go back on his word. Zuko was going to face off in an Agni Ki.

Really, Zuko should consider it a blessing. How many children engage in the ultimate act of honor the Fire Nation has to offer?

If he wins, his standing in the public and in the circle of generals skyrockets. If he loses, people will just dismiss it as youth.

But he was nonetheless terrified, at least up until Uncle Iroh had a talk with him. That seemed to cool his nerves.

Azula was most impressed how he hadn't even gone to Mother once. Perhaps he was beginning to understand that she offered nothing in the way of victory and success.

The match was about to start. Ursa wasn't present, which was just as well. She would only be a distraction.

Iroh had accompanied her to her annoyance, and he watched on jubilantly as Zuko took the stage.

Azula predicted one of two things: either this general will mop the floor with him, or Zuko will struggle at first, but gradually gain confidence until he blasts the man into the crowds. Both options would be entertaining to witness.

The challenger's footsteps could be heard. The chatter of the crowd remained healthy at least up until the person appeared, the domineering figure of the Fire Lord himself wearing a grim expression.

The entire room fell quiet. Azula's heart plummeted, and she felt Iroh stiffen in his place.

Again, Azula wasn't too surprised. Decisions like this were very characteristic of Ozai. When he decided you needed a lesson, you'd be lucky to come out of it with all four limbs.

"Father, no," Zuko began. His determination melted into despair.

"For disrespecting a decorated Fire Nation general, and in turn, disrespecting me, prepare Prince Zuko!"

Azula shook her head. It wasn't going to be pretty, but Zuko could come out of this okay. A few advanced moves along with courage and a never-quit attitude, he might even impress Father. He wasn't an entirely unreasonable man. He just wanted to prove something to his son, perhaps toughen him up a little and negate some of that woman's training.

But Zuko didn't know Father as well as her. He instead opts to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, exclaiming how he won't fight.

Naturally, Ozai doesn't take too kindly to hearing this, and he barks what a disappointment his son turned out to be. "Get up and fight, you cowardly dog!" The flare of fire erupted from his hands to emphasize his command.

Iroh's gaze fell. He knew what was about to happen next.

Azula did as well. She saw Father gearing up for an attack, the full brunt of his rage enclosed.

She looked back at the small Prince. What a waste. The perfect opportunity to prove himself and Zuko was going to throw it away. And be severely injured in the process.

Unlike Zuko Azula lived to fight. Her love was fire bending. And competition thrilled her. In the throes of sparring she could forget about her royal responsibilities, the friction with her mother, and especially that loathsome illness.

Ozai struck, cruelty visible around the edges of his mouth. Before the fire could hit their intended target, however, they dissipated, and standing defensively before Zuko was Princess Azula.

"I volunteer in Zuko's place." Most people would be questioning the wisdom of their actions, but not Azula. Her mind was surprisingly clear and she didn't feel a hint of trepidation despite her opponent. After all, she was born for this.

"Azula," her father grit. "Get out of my way. Zuko will learn one way or another." He sounded like he was trying to stay calm.

This was the only chance to change her mind. Father had given her this out. But Azula was having none of it.

"It's lawful that I can take his place. A member of the royal family can intercede in any Agni Ki. Now will you fight me, Father?"

Having his own words thrown back at him, Ozai snarled, "Very well. But you'll regret it."

Azula nodded. Then she glanced back at a dumbfounded Zuko. A loud thwack echoed across the chamber. She had thrown her hardest right hook straight across the cheekbone.

Sweat glistened on her skin as Azula concentrated on the poised form of her father. She was going to have to be faster. She was going to have to be smarter. If she wanted to leave this ring relatively unscathed.

There! The first flinch and Azula was already moving out of the way of an attack which her father hadn't yet sent. The fire flew past harmlessly, but the heat made her nervous. She hadn't experienced bending this hot.

Her first instinct was to stay on the defensive, but she recognized that was her body telling her to run. Instead she spun and fired the quickest blast possible, small in radius, but hopefully fast enough to at least catch him by surprise.

To her dismay Ozai batted away the attack without a blink of the eye. He grinned and summoned a massive wall tearing right for her. She inhaled and realized that it was do or die. She stretched out her palms and parted the towering fire with a strength she didn't know she possessed. To everyone's astonishment the flames passed by with a whoosh on either side.

Azula, gaining confidence, prepared to retaliate when a familiar shadow crossed her face, and she turned in dismay. She was much too young for her life to be flashing before her eyes. The moment seemed to last forever, and for a second time the audience was completely attentive.

Then the world unfroze, and Azula had no chance to react to her father's harshest backhand yet.

With a crack her body bounced across the floor.

Tears welled up from the wrath of his blow. That side of her face was numb, and her neck hurt from the torque of her father's strike. Slumped on the ground she tasted blood, and wondered if any of her teeth were loose.

She was aware of the stares, and she imagined even a few offended dignitaries to witness such abuse, but none of that mattered. The only thing she felt was Ozai's ominous regard. He meandered her way and his sandals stopped an inch away from her face.

Slowly she pulled herself up, blinking away the dampness, and highly sensitive to the stinging of her cheek which had replaced the shock. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Then his fingers wrapped around her hair which had come undone in the fight, and she felt herself lifted off her knees.

Then he personally dragged Azula towards the edge of the ring, her feet sliding uselessly behind. She saw the bottom and thought how it represented the abyss. She was going to be thrown exactly where she belonged. When her hands and knees met the floor the match was officially over. She had lost.

"Take heed," Ozai warned. "We cannot afford to be burdened with sentimentality. We have a war with the Earth Kingdom to win. Let's do what's necessary so that our children may enjoy the fruits of our labor."

Azula meanwhile shut herself down. She didn't hear the mumbling of the people above her. She didn't see the kindness of her uncle. She didn't see the stricken face of her mother who having heard what was transpiring rushed to the scene.

Yes, her injuries hurt, like her wrists from catching herself and her knees from the impact, but it didn't compare to the humiliation of her defeat. She had been so confident.

How could she have been so foolish?

Thinking she could take on the Fire Lord. Now she truly saw how far she had to go. Simply being superior to one's contemporaries wasn't enough. She needed to transcend generations. She was going to have to be the best. Of all time.

...

Of all time.

First Zuko had to get over the fact that his sister hit him. Then he had to come to terms with how she had taken his place. Naturally the shame hit him a lot harder than Azula had, as he watched her face off against their own father. Unlike him she possessed the courage. She possessed the drive.

What was wrong with him?

Maybe Azula had been right all along. I mean, she was the one on the stage after all, when he had been too scared to stand.

Uncle Iroh came to stand beside him on the sidelines. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and told him that it was her decision. That he shouldn't blame himself. Iroh mentioned something about fate but Zuko wasn't listening.

He was frightened for Azula. And the fright doubled his guilt.

The match went just as they feared. Practically everyone flinched when Ozai hit his daughter. Iroh's jaw hardened. Zuko knew that it should have been him.

The only thing he could think as he watched Azula, grimacing from the pressure on her scalp, be escorted by the hair off the ring was why? He wasn't worth this kind of sacrifice.

He caught a glimpse of Azula between the crowd of people who had gathered around her. There was no trace of life in her eyes. She seemed far away, and Zuko knew it was entirely his fault.

Something inside of him broke.

"I don't want to hear it, Zuko."

He knew it was bad when she called him by his actual name. She wasn't being teasing, patronizing, or playful. She was being honest. And an honest Azula always disturbed him.

"But I can't let this go, Azula. You shouldn't have done that! I'm the oldest. I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting you."

It was the morning after and Azula was confined to bed rest for another entire day. The swelling had gone down, but the skin around the stitches along her fractured cheekbone was still red. Ozai hadn't pulled his punch.

It turns out she did lose a tooth, but the damage was trivial in her mind. At least her father had avoided the eye. "Is that so," she drawled, narrowing her gaze. She hadn't glanced at Zuko, however. She was trying to stay calm. "You seem to be under the mistaken assumption Brother that I volunteered in order to spare you."

Taken back Zuko murmured, "What do you mean? What else could it have been? You're not the most gracious person, but everybody who was there thinks that-"

"I knew you wouldn't understand." Azula's gaze traveled to the ceiling. "Nobody can. I saw an opportunity and I seized it. I wanted to demonstrate my abilities to all those witnesses, to be the first person to engage the reigning Fire Lord in an Agni Kai. It was an honor. You were never part of the equation."

Zuko shook his head. "I don't believe that." Yes, it did sound very characteristic of her, but he also knew that Azula wasn't the most sacrificing person. She rarely liked to take risks and challenging the most prominent firebender in the world qualified as a risk. Instead, her excuse sounded like something she would use to justify her compassion, or in her mind, it was weakness.

"Believe what you like. It doesn't matter to me. Now I'm tired of your whiny dialogue." She made a motion as if shooing him from the room. "Leave."

Zuko complied, but just before he embarked, he muttered, "Next time I'll be there for you."

Azula heard him. She laid in her bed, quite impacted by his parting remark. It was a nice sentiment. But she knew he didn't have the strength to back it up. It was just an empty promise, designed by his psyche for the sole purpose of repairing his self-esteem. Everyone operated in much the same way. People were so insecure. Everything they did revolved around building up their fractured egos.

She refused to be part of it however. Long ago she decided that everything she got she deserved. The world was fair. The thousands who thought differently were needy incompetent fools.

If fate consigned her to poverty, so be it. She'll work harder to escape. If fate lavished her with wealth, then she'll enjoy the luxury secure in the knowledge that she personally earned it. If she was beaten to bloody pieces, then she obviously hadn't practiced enough. If she was stricken with a debilitating illness, than somewhere along the line she had done something wrong.

She just hadn't figured it out yet.

Nevertheless, the road goes on. She knew that. This was just one little setback. Father would forgive her in time once she proved herself again. And her name was already being thrown around in high circles. Overall, a wise decision, she reassured herself.

Minutes passed.

…

"A wise decision," she whispered, ghosting her finger over the ruts of her split cheek.


End file.
